


Hey, Dean, Don't Make it Bad.

by luthor_pendragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark, Family, Gen, M/M, Mark of Cain, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luthor_pendragon/pseuds/luthor_pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a dark day for the Winchester family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey, Dean, Don't Make it Bad.

**Author's Note:**

> So, Season 10 has been giving me a ton of feels, and, after what's been going on with Jared and his "Always Keep Fighting" Campaign, the comment that he made about filming an episode dealing with suicide, and then Jensen's and Misha's "Manly" tweets (sunset), this horrible little blurb just popped into my head. It's frightening, I know, but the Mark needs to go. It's killing Dean.

Sam started in his chair in the bunker's library as a tan blur shot past him, flapping in the wind.

"Cas?"

There was no answer, so the taller man bounded up the stairs after him, wondering what in the hell was going on. Dean wasn't home. He had gone out for a beer run. Even with having to drive to the local market and back, he wasn't supposed to be home yet. So why was Cas freaking out, and why couldn't they wait?

Catching up with him, he climbed into the Lincoln's passenger seat. "What's going on?"

"Dean's in trouble," replied Cas as he turned the ignition. Pushing the button that would open the garage, he tore out of there as soon as there was enough room.

The beach was deserted on a cloudy day like this. The wind coming off the water was chilly. Not that he felt it too much. It was good there was nobody here. He stood still, just feeling the tiny waves roll under the dock he stood on. A small dighy was tied to one of the posts, and it banged against the old wood. If he really tried, he'd be able to break it.

The thing was, the post wasn't the thing he wanted to break. 

He stood there, who knows how long, wondering if this might do it. Crowley had said that Cain had tried to kill himself, after everything; had said he couldn't handle it, the blood on his hands. But he hadn't really died. He had just turned into a demon. And Cain had said that the only thing that could kill a Knight of Hell was the First Blade. But Dean had given that to Cas to hide, and he really didn't want anything to do with it anymore. 

Maybe this will do it, he thought. Maybe this will finally end all this. The Mark on his arm burned for blood. It was almost always burning now. Like it had when he was a demon. But today it was particularly bad. It was angry with him for letting the Blade go. And it seemed disgusted with the large knife he carried on his hip now, the handle of which was settled into the palm of his right hand. 

He looked down at the shining metal, reflecting what little light there was, but also as gray as the clouds above it and the water beneath it. A quiet gray. If a tree falls in the woods, and no one's around to hear it, does it make a sound?, he thought. No, probably not. And the grayness would just muffle his screams even further. If he allowed himself to scream at all.

"There's the Impala!" Sam pointed out the window, his other hand going down to his seatbelt to unbuckle as soon as Cas parked.

Cas just gave a small nod and turned to pull up next to the classic car. He'd known where Dean was. His grace may be burning low, but he could still hear prayers. Not that Dean had actually prayed to him. Not that Dean needed to.

They bolted out of the car as fast as they could. Cas saw as a small sliver of sunlight glinted off the blade as it was raised. He ran, desperately, and wrapped himself around Dean's chest just as he was lowering the weapon. 

"Cas, get out of here," growled the man, his hand held the knife millimeters away from the back of the angel's neck. With his grace this low, it might actually kill him, and Dean didn't want that.

"No," came the gravelly voice, the shorter man burying his face against the taller's clavicle. His hands had gone up and clutched at the back of the leather jacket.

"Cas, I don't want you to see this. You don't need to see this. Go back to Sam." 

"I"m right here," said the younger man quietly, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder from behind. He was gentle, not wanting to startle him as Cas had. If Dean hadn't noticed before who it was that had grabbed him, he might not have stopped. 

"Sammy," Dean choked, the emotions finally running away from him. "Take Cas and go. I need to do this." His tears fell into the brown hair under his chin. Cas didn't mind, and he didn't let go.

"No." He came around front and put his hand over his brother's. The mouth was set in a firm line, but the hazel eyes were sad. "Please, Dean, give me the knife." 

Dean's grip only tightened on the handle under Sam's fingers. But he did lower it away from Cas. "Go home."

Sam shook his head. "Not without you." His fingers pressed insistently on his brother's, trying to gently worm their way in between, loosening the man's grip.

"How could you do this to us, you damn son of a bitch?" sobbed Cas, his voice broken despite being muffled against Dean's shirt. 

"I'm no good to be around; and I need to end it. I'm poison, Cas. I'm poison and I don't want to hurt anybody else." 

"But we're family." The angel looked up into the green eyes. "We're family, and we need you." 

Dean glanced up to Sam. The steady look in his eyes only agreed with Cas' statement. 

"I need you," whispered Cas, drawing the hunter's attention back down to him. 

It was like he froze, his mind suddenly gaining clarity after having been so fog-ridden for so long. Finally, he understood what had happened back in Lucifer's crypt. Cas had been lying when he said he didn't know what had broken Naomi's hold over him. He knew now, though, that it was him, Dean Winchester, that had done it. And now Cas was quoting him, word for word. 

"I need you," repeated the angel against his neck, his grip holding on just as tight as possible. 

Just as Cas had, he let the blade go. Sam caught it and easily pulled it out of his brother's reach. Dean's hands went up and curled themselves into the back of the angel's trench coat. He slumped against him, suddenly exhausted. He didn't have a magical stone to re-energize himself; only the two men beside him. 

Sam quickly slipped the knife between his belt and his pants. Then, ducking, he wedged his shoulders under his brother's arm, taking most of the man's weight as Cas turned and did the same on the other side. Slowly, one step at a time, they climbed back up to where the Impala was parked. 

By the time they reached it, Cas had stopped crying. He let go and climbed into the back seat, laying down, one foot on the floor. Sam gently eased Dean into the car, the angel pulling the elder Winchester until his sandy-haired head lay over his sternum.

Dean curled into into the fetal position, settling so that no part of him ended up hurting Cas in any way. His hand clutched at the angel's shirt and he sighed heavily. Even in his exhausted state, he was still forcing himself to look out for the others.

Sam shut the door behind them, doing his best not to catch their clothes or feet. Then he went around to the driver's seat. "What about your car, Cas?" he asked quietly as he climbed in, trying not to startle Dean.

"I'll come back for it." He fished around in his pocket and extracted his keys, held them up, and pressed the "lock" button. The car responded with the usual lights-flash-honk-honk. Then he reached into Dean's jacket and took out the keys to the Impala, tossing them lightly to Sam.

"Where to, then? Home?"

"Just drive, Sam."

Sam gave a curt nod and started the car. Pulling onto the road, he just went. In the back seat, Cas wrapped one arm around Dean's shoulders while the other hand started running itself through his hair.

"Hey, Jude, don't make it bad.  
Take a sad song and make it better.  
Remember to let her into your heart  
Then you can start to make it better."

The angel's gravelly voice sang quietly as his hand moved through the man's hair. 

"Hey, Jude. Don't be afraid.  
You were made to go out and get her.  
The minute you let her under your skin,  
Then you'll begin to make it better."

He sang, and Sam drove. He moved in with Cas' voice, remembering the lyrics from when Dean had sung it when they were kids, his off-key voice completely annoying but it hadn't mattered because it was what they had left of Mary. Of course, Dean always remembered to only sing it when John was out hunting. 

Now they sang it to the one person that truly needed it. Who hadn't had that much care shown to him in years, or so he thought. It actually had, he just hadn't seen it because he was too busy trying to take care of everyone else.

With the last refrain of the chorus, the angel's heartbeat counting out time against his temple, Dean fell asleep on Cas' chest; and still Sam drove on. Going home to the bunker, to that room where he'd woken up as a demon, well, it didn't really seem the right option for them at the moment. Unfortunately, there wasn't really anywhere they could go where Dean only had happy memories. So Sam drove. He drove on until they ran out of gas, then he drove on again.

They'd figure it out. They always do.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry.


End file.
